Ignition
by KelliP
Summary: 'It's funny the things that go through one's mind when someone is teetering on the brink of death. Except, really, it's not, because all she can think about is that she hasn't even told him she loves him.' Two parts.
1. Chapter 1

******IGNITION**

* * *

It's funny the things that go through one's mind when someone is teetering on the brink of death.

Except, really, it's not.

Because all she can think about is that she hasn't even told him she loves him.

* * *

She's only a few steps behind him, her attention caught by a bright yellow post-it plastered to their victim's fridge, a date and address scrawled messily in felt. By the time it loses her focus and her head twists in search of him, his hand is already on the doorknob, twisting, pushing the white wood open. It inches backward just a crack when she catches sight of it.

The glimmer of fading daylight that bounces off the metallic wire.

The cry for him to cease barely finds its way from her throat in time.

"Stop."

* * *

The hands of her father's watch slow for a split second, then time stops.

The final tick echoes too loud in her ear, the silence that follows shattering around her. Her heart is already clenching in agony, the petrified scream trapped beneath a mangled knot that clogs her throat. There's a shine to her eyes, the silent tears brimming at the lower ridge, too stubborn to slip off and slide down over her fallen face.

All she can do is stare into his wide, terrified, _pleading_ eyes.

Because they both saw what happened to the victim of yesterday's bomb.

And she can't let that happen to Castle.

She can't let him become another victim.

* * *

"Don't move," she manages to rasp. "Don't- just- be very still."

On a long exhale he gives a single nod. The movement isn't slow enough to hide how he tremors in fear. His eyes are sunken, hollow and dark as they flicker in distress. It opens a churning pit deep in her stomach, a sudden, violent punch that causes her to keel over.

"Kate – "

The rough, panicked call of her name and the sharp drop of his voice drags her attention back to him. His cheeks are slack, lower lip fallen low as his mouth parts on a shaky breath, chin just quivering with that little-boy fear. But his posture is rigid, shoulders hunched, every muscle seizing, body twisting almost unnaturally as he searches for her in desperation. She can tell it's taking his every effort not to release his grip on the door and just _run_.

From where she stands frozen in the kitchen, Beckett swallows hard. One open palm presses itself against her stomach as she forces herself upright, her ribcage expanding as she inhales deep to level her dizzy head.

Calm. For him, she needs to remain calm, be his steady ground because he needs to hold his focus, remain absolutely frozen. If his hands shakes, the door moves, the wire is tripped, and-

"Talk to me," he begs gravelly, voice choking at the base of his throat. His eyes close tight, blocking out the world for just a moment before he wrenches them open again, pleading with her. "Distract me."

Everything seizes within her as she fumbles for words, her heart tearing apart so excruciatingly it leaves her at a complete loss. "About what?"

For once there's no strained half-chuckle to his voice, no weak attempt to deflect from the gravity of the situation. Just a low and strangled seriousness that leaves her bleeding as everything shatters around them.

"About anything other than the bomb I might trip at any moment."

* * *

It takes a long few minutes and the promise of _thank-god-we're-alive -sex _ (typical man) before Castle steadies his focus enough to leave her free to radio-in the situation.

It takes not five minutes for the steady silence that's fallen over them to shatter, and for all hell to break loose.

The chaos outside echoes too loud in the concrete city, all blaring sirens and screeching tires. With one window at the far end of the living room open, the noise filters into the cramped apartment too easy. The clamour is distracting, leaves Castle edgy, struggling to hold still as the nerves seep in.

"How're doing, Castle?" she calls a soft question.

From where she remains in the kitchen, Beckett sees him swallow hard. His eyes flick up for only a single moment before they return unwavering focus to the door once again. It's all she needs to see the horror still blackening his eyes.

"Just keep it steady," she breathes. "Steady. You've got this."

"Kate – " He shakes his head a little, too restless from the adrenaline, too panicked as the fiery blood spikes through his heart.

"Steady." She forces the stress out of her tone, keeps it soft and level while she waits for him to calm.

It's a long minute later when his breathing slows to a steady rhythm again, the tense muscles across his shoulder blades relaxing.

But the sickening grip on her heart doesn't let go.

* * *

When the bomb squad finally roll up to the scene, it's the captain of unit that enters first. It's a careful process of surveying the scene, each step methodical lest he accidentally trigger the blast. To say he's alarmed when he finds her standing willingly within the blast radius would be saying the least.

"Ma'am, you need to leave."

She can hear what the man isn't saying. That she needs to leave just in case. It sends her stomach tumbling with unease. She can't even think about _just in case_.

Without bothering a glance in the captain's direction, she gives a steady shake of her head. "No."

A dull huff can just be heard from behind the heavy padded suit he wears. "Your partner is in good hands now, ma'am. Please – "

"_No_." Her voice is a low, a deep threatening growl that matches the ferocity of her defiant glare.

"Kate, listen to him."

Her eyes shift to Castle's, find his two blues already trained on her. She needs no words, her decision etched fiercely into the hard lines of her face.

Still, he tries to persuade her. "Kate, please – "

"No."

No argument.

He's can't go anywhere.

She's staying right here with him.

* * *

Near an hour passes by, the daylight fading all too quickly outside the grimy windows. Castle stands like stone with his every inch completely still, chest not even moving as air barely finds its way into his lungs. He's almost the perfect picture of a man in complete control, one who is completely calm.

She knows better.

It's his eyes that give him away, wide and bloodshot with a cutting panic as he grips the handle, willing it not to move lest he trips the wire and he becomes another victim lost to a fiery explosion. It's how his eyes bat too fast, the lids roughly rubbing together as he blinks away the sweat that slips from where it builds on his forehead. It's the gasps of breaths he draws in erratically, the short bursts he exhales in frustration. It's the strained hunch of his shoulders, holding back the shudders that threaten to tear through his body, one ripple at a time until he loses all control.

"They're going in through the fire escape." Her voice is soft as she finds it, gentle lest it startle him. "Once they ascertain the window isn't tripped, they'll slip inside."

He blinks once before his eyes carefully seek out hers.

"From inside they'll have a clearer picture. More information. Better access." It's just the two of them now as she repeats the plan already relayed to them, for her peace of mind or his, she doesn't know. "And when they've learnt everything they can… they'll disarm the bomb."

It sounds too simple. They both know nothing is so simple.

Castle swallows slowly as a bead of sweat forms at his temple. "They'll disarm the bomb," he murmurs an echo of her words.

"You're going to be fine, Castle," she swears, yet she wishes there were more honesty in her eyes. "You're going to be fine.

She still doesn't know whether she's speaking to herself or him.

* * *

"Kate, I want you to go."

"No."

"Kate – "

"That discussion is already closed, Castle," she silences him.

She hears the frustration catch in his throat, the huff that fires from flaring nostrils. She doesn't give in.

"If something goes wrong – "

"Nothing will go wrong," she interrupts.

"– I don't want you here." He shoots her a desperate look, eyes glassy and _pleading_, but-

"_No_, Castle," she rasps. There's a violent grip on her heart that wrings it bloodless and dry with just the thought of leaving.

Even on a whisper, his voice cracks. "Please."

It breaks her heart.

"Castle, I can't." Her curls tangle into a messy knot as she shakes her head, lower lip paling as her tooth digs down too harsh. "If it were me, would you leave?"

He doesn't respond, the silence all too telling.

They both know he would never leave.

Instead he shuffles on the spot, sliding each foot to the side carefully as his hand keeps an iron-grip on the door handle. Distraction over, he turns to her, for once no humour in his eyes as he shoots her one last longing look.

"If – " He pauses, draws in a long breath as he gathers himself. "If something happens – "

_Please_, nothing happen.

" – I just – you should know – "

There's a burst of static that cuts through the air as the squad leader's radio sparks to life. "We're entering the room now," comes the crackling voice.

Her stomach gives way.

This is it.

* * *

Her eyes flutter shut as she pushes everything away to focus on breathing. In and out. One breath, two.

Everything comes down to this moment.

Her eyes open to catch a blur of red and blue flickering from the city street three stories below, startling now night has blanketed the city. It drops from her attention as the footsteps in the next room snatch it instead, the sounds dulled by the blood rushing through her ears. She lets that slip from her attention too, shifting all focus back to the situation in this room, to her partner standing within inches of a bomb as he tries to hold the tripwire steady in trembling hands.

The adrenaline courses through her veins, boils her blood. She fists her hands by her side to keep focus but her palms are so slick with sweat her fingers simply slide against one another. Ragged breathing barely keeps enough oxygen circulating around her body, and it's all she can do not to black out and just keep her eyes firmly locked onto Castle's.

"You can do this," she whispers. Her voice is barely there, but it's just enough to extinguish the flaming anxiety in his eyes.

He nods once in response. He can do this.

With a glance over at the heavy suit-laden bomb squad leader that stands beside Castle, she sees the man holding up one pausing hand. Almost time. Any second –

"Tripwire looks to be phony," the radio crackles. "You're in the clear."

It takes a moment, then – Oh. _Oh_.

It's over. He's safe.

There's an overwhelming surge of relief that rushes through her body and nearly brings her to her knees. It fills the hollow pit that's still caving low in her stomach, releases the vice on her heart. Still, when it rises up the length of her throat, it knots tight, closes off, the breaking cry of _thank God _dying on her tongue.

"Mister Castle," the leader speaks up as he slides in toward the door, his own hand reaching for the handle to steady it even now, just a precaution until they're out of the room. "I've got this. Let go."

He scrunches his face, all determination zeroing in on where his fingers grasp the handle and his knuckles have turned white. But after hours of going over this, hours of wishing and waiting for this moment – the moment when he's finally _safe_ – he looks as if he can't.

"Let go, Castle," she calls for him.

At the sound of her voice, he lets go of whatever is holding him back.

And he lets go of the door.

* * *

Her heart stops, clenches, a breath caught in her lungs as she watches his fingers finally slip from the handle, then –

Nothing. No tick as the bomb counts down, no all-consuming explosion. Nothing.

Castle all but crumbles with the realisation he's finally free. He doubles-over for a second, gasps for much-needed air in relief.

But even without a tripwire there's still a live explosive on the other side of the wall. They don't have time. They have to leave.

"Castle," she calls his name. "Castle, let's go."

She knows how this scenario can play out – how one misstep from the bomb squad as they work to dispose of the device can trigger the explosion.

"Steady," she breathes in a low voice. "Steady. Come on."

He finally inches forward, each step he takes feather-light, heel then toe, heel then toe. It's slow – _God_, it's so slow – each step so carefully chosen, so cautiously executed. Her heart drums loud in her chest once again in wait and so she stretches one arm toward him, fingers splaying wide as they desperately reach for him. He reciprocates, raises one hand, mouth parting on a silent plea.

Then finally, _finally_, the tips of their fingers brush, that tingle she feels every time they touch shooting up her arm and straight to her heart.

For a split second she believes everything is going to be all right.

She should have known better.

* * *

The sense of devastating dread slices through her skin and cuts straight to her bones barely a split second before it happens.

The heat is scorching, blistering her skin.

The explosion is deafening, rupturing in her ears.

The surge of energy is so violent, so vengeful, no match for her slender frame as it throws her backward through the air.

Ignition.

* * *

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

******IGNITION**

* * *

She comes to almost immediately, a deep throbbing at the back of her head forcing her to wake. There's a vibration in her throat as she cries out at the ache but she hears nothing, a shrill ringing in her ears all that resounds in her mind. She claps her palms over her ears. It does nothing to muffle the sound.

Beckett squeezes her eyes shut, grabs her bearings.

There's a blistering heat that blankets over her, wraps too tight as it scalds her skin. The need for fresh air desperate, she draws in a deep breath. Mistake. A dark, heavy smoke finds its way inside her lung, burns at the soft tissue inside her chest. She coughs and splutters against the thick cloud, keeling over even as she lies on the ground.

It all fades into the background as one thought flashes at the forefront of her mind.

"Castle?" Her scream is frantic and coarse, the chords in her throat rough. "Castle?"

Silence.

* * *

He's not gone. He's not. He's not.

A strained groan resounds in her throat as she efforts a roll onto her stomach. Her body protests at the moment, muscles stiff, bones bruised. The thought of Castle lying alone somewhere, thrown aside amongst the rubble on the dirty ground, is her only strength. With outstretched fingers she pushes one hand forward. She has to bite down hard on her tongue to stop from crying out as the delicate skin on the tips of her fingers is sliced apart as they run across shattered glass.

"Castle?"

No response.

She swallows the pain, inches her hand further forward across the ashy hardwood floors, searching blindly through the heavy haze of blackened smoke swirling around her. Her fingers trip over nothing but the hard, dirty ground. She must have lost him in the blast.

In the flickering light of the fire she blinks, takes in the burning apartment around her and tries to gain some sense of direction. Through the smoke and debris she thinks she can make out the stark white of the front door. A mental map tells her she must be still in the kitchen. She tries to place where Castle last stood, figure out where the blast may have thrown him. The other side of the counter? She has to get around the kitchen island and find him.

With just enough strength to lift up she plants one forearm on the ground underneath her chest. Digging the toe of her right shoe into the ground, she positions, then kicks forward. She barely slides an inch.

Gritting her teeth, she repeats. Other arm, other foot. A strangled sob slips from her lips at the motion, the muscles of her left foot screaming in pain. Four inch spiked heels weren't the most practical wardrobe choice. She must have twisted her ankle when she fell.

Letting her left leg drag against the ground uselessly she kicks again with her right, fingers clawing at the ground as she desperately tries to crawl forward. It's a slow struggle, taking more energy than she has within her, the last remnants of adrenaline in her veins all that keeps her moving.

"Castle?"

His name chokes in her throat underneath a thick knot. She's breathing in too much smoke, the thick cloud of soot suffocating. She claps a palm over her mouth and tries to protect her lungs from the debris as she draws in a shallow breath. Her hand is already so blackened with dust that it's of little use.

She throws another elbow forward, worms her body inches at a time, ignores the fragmented glass that wedges itself into her skin with every movement. She has to act fast. He needs her now. Then –

"Castle," she cries out. He's there. Oh, he's there.

But –_ God_ – he's not moving.

The sob catches at the back of her throat and she throws herself forward desperately. Two fingers reach for his neck, shaking as they press against his carotid artery, a burst of terror climbing into her throat as she searches for a pulse.

"Castle," she pleas. "Castle – "

Beneath her fingers, there's a beat.

He's alive.

* * *

The relief is only momentary, the gravity of the situation quickly enveloping her.

She can't get him out of here.

With her left ankle flaring and useless she can barely move herself, let alone Castle too. She can't lift him, can't drag him. It's too far. And the stairs?

Damn it. She needs him to wake up.

She crawls closer, heart clenching as his delicate, lifeless face appears through the screen of smoke. There's a deep gash on his forehead, dark crimson staining his face as it coagulates into a thick mess. He must have knocked his head against the edge of the counter in the blast.

The fingers that have fallen open on his neck slide to his shoulder. They dig weakly into the bone as she tries to shake him, rouse him from unconsciousness because she can't get them out of here alone.

"Castle," she croaks. "Come on, Castle. You have to wake up. Wake _up_, Castle."

She shakes him again, calls his name over. It's to no avail. The air around her is sweltering, each breath burning her lungs. She coughs violently, keeling over on her side as her body shudders and protests against the smoke.

She can't believe it's going to end like this.

* * *

They still have so much to do, so much to experience, so much of their lives still to be lived.

She wants to have the chance to give up her apartment. Move in with him. Find a place they can call their own.

She wants to have the chance to stumble upon a sparkling diamond ring one day by accident. The chance to stand before their families and friends and vow to never part. To wear two matching bands on their left hands day in and day out.

And a family. Oh, she wants a family with him. The chance to hold that small, perfect child in her arms, blue eyes bright as they stare up in wonder, and have her heart brimming with love because this tiny creature is _theirs_.

But _God_ – she hasn't even told him she loves him.

She has to tell him. He has to know. He has to.

It can't be over. Not yet. Not like this.

They still have their lives to build together.

* * *

A deep growl of determination rips from her chest, ripples out to her fingertips, down to her toes. She's not going to be the one who has to make the phone call; who has to tell Martha and Alexis he's never coming home.

She _has_ to get them out of here.

Somewhere off of to the side she hears the sharp crackle of the fire, a resounding thud as something heavy gives way to the flames. She throws a glance in the direction of the sound but can't see anything beyond the glowing smoke, the screen too thick. She hopes the support beams didn't collapse over the exit.

A deep groan stirs her from her thoughts. Her neck snaps around, eyes searching desperately, hope bursting into her heart. "Castle?"

His eyes are shut, face still slack.

"Castle?" His name is barely a whisper this time as tentative fingers trip over his cheek, sweep away the debris that blackens his face.

He doesn't stir.

* * *

It's the leader of the bomb squad, the man suited in heavy armour to protect him from any potential blast. He still lies on the ground but he's coming to, rousing with heavy grunts, rising to his feet painstakingly slow. But then he stands steady, crouched low below the swirling smoke as he orients himself in the burning room.

"Help." Her voice is hoarse as she cries out. "Please. Help."

Despite the weakness of her voice, she somehow catches the man's attention. He stumbles over on hollow legs, drops to his knees beside her.

"Castle," she signals to her partner. "Help him."

The leader reaches for her, tries to lift her from the ground. She shrugs off his help and protests with a shake of her head. "No. Him. Get him out of here."

Still, the man hesitates.

"He's the civilian."

There's a sudden bright glimmer that bounces of something metallic beside her, catches both their attention. It's her badge, dislodged from her belt in her shuffle. She's never been so happy to see it.

Weak fingers encircling around the badge, she urges for the captain's help. "Take him," she pleads. "I'm right behind you. Go. _Go_."

He reaches for Castle, and leaves.

She blacks out.

* * *

The tender touch of his fingers is the first sensation as she awakens, the brush of their tips soothing as they sweep the hair off her face, and she cherishes the warmth of his palm as he cups her bruised cheek.

"Kate?"

The notes of his voice are soft as they call her name, but there's a tremble to it that keeps the smile from her lips. He's worried. It rolls her stomach uneasily.

A heavy sigh shatters the silence in the room, but it sounds from too far to be Castle. Another person?

"Sir, it doesn't appear she's waking just yet. If you'll please come with me - "

"No," he cries out, the intake of his breath sharp as she feels him lean in close. "She's waking."

With an effort her eyelids slit open, fluttering under the harsh fluorescent of the overhead lights. Her vision is nothing but shadows as her pupils contract to the sudden brightness, the two figures in the room slowly focusing before her. An older nurse taps her foot at the end of the bed as Castle sits loyally by her side.

Her heart clenches at the sight of him. The blackened ash has been washed clean but his cheekbone has bruised a deep purple. That terrifying gash on his forehead, once smearing his face with a deep crimson as his spilt blood pooled, is now stitched up, but it's still so prominent to be anything but concerning. So many questions on her lips, she lifts a shaky arm, reaches for the mask secured over her nose and mouth.

"No, Kate." A pausing hand encircles around her wrist as he scolds her gently. "You have to keep that on. For the smoke inhalation," he explains.

She catches sight of his own mask hanging loose and forgotten around his neck. The lines of her forehead crease as her brow knits together.

"I know you don't like it, but it's not for long." Hand twisting so his fingers lace with hers, he gives a reassuring squeeze. "The doctor said you're just exhausted. You should be coming home tonight."

Oh, that word has never meant so much to her.

Home.

* * *

It isn't long before a rough ache in her throat demands her attention, the usually smooth muscle coarse. She twists her head and tries to stretch her neck, hoping the burn will fade into the background. It flares up instead.

"It's from the smoke," she hears Castle murmur.

Her eyes slide to his in question but he's already holding up a cup of water for her. He gently tugs down the oxygen mask so it falls to her chest before lifting the short white straw to her mouth. Just the first sip of the cool liquid soothes her throat.

All of this – the steady beep of the monitor beside her, the inability to complete the smallest of tasks – vaguely reminds her of the last time she was in this hospital. This time, though, she has no problem accepting his help.

"Thank you," she rasps.

He nods just once and places the empty cup onto the table beside her bed, secures the oxygen mask over her mouth and nose once again. Then all too quickly something flashes in his eyes, a sudden darkness clouding over as the lines of his face harden.

He's mad.

"They told me what you did."

His voice is low and steady, cautions her to the tone of the conversation. Even though there's only one possible thing he's talking about, she doesn't react. Just keeps the lines of her face smooth and unrevealing.

"How you forced them to save me."

She doesn't even blink. She's not sorry.

"Never do that again."

She'd do it again in a heartbeat.

"Promise me."

She can't.

_I love you_.

The words bubble on her tongue, but don't slip from her lips.

It's not the place.

She doesn't care.

* * *

Shaky fingers claw at the mask on her face, the back of her palm weakly swatting his hand away as he tries to stop her. Her eyes shine as they plead with him, desperate for him to understand everything bubbling inside her chest. It sparkles through her veins, warm as it climbs the length of her throat, then -

"I love you."

The words finally leave her on barely a breath, and for a moment she's unsure whether he even heard it. But then his movements slow to a stop, his breath catches in his throat, his eyes glass over as that sky blue shines bright.

And then there's the tight squeeze of his arms as he draws her in, the warm, tender press of his lips to her hair, and the steady cadence of his murmured response.

"I know."

The love in her heart ignites all over again.

* * *

_kellisworld dot tumblr dot com_


End file.
